


Sleeping Bat

by ionia



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU, Superman - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-31
Updated: 2013-10-31
Packaged: 2017-12-31 02:15:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1026099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ionia/pseuds/ionia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clark is a stalker and watches Bruce sleep.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sleeping Bat

**Author's Note:**

> This was a gift fic for thefandomscolliding, over on tumblr.

 

It was still quite dark outside, but in the east the sky was already getting lighter. If he flew up now, he would be able to see orange and pink paint the horizon, and if he went even higher, he would be able to see the first cautious rays of light, the start of a new day. Still higher, he would be able to see the sun itself. But he didn’t want to see the sun. So he flew down. Down to the dark woods and rocks north of Gotham City. On the other side of the river, the first people were already getting up for work, the last ones just about to get ready for bed. He tuned out the sounds and flew to Wayne Manor, hoped Batman had finished his night of patrol by now and Bruce would be sound asleep in bed.

The curtains of the master bedroom were closed, but Clark used his x-ray vision to look inside. Bruce was sleeping, the covers rising and falling steadily as he breathed. He put his hand on the glass balcony doors, pushed. They weren’t closed. Slowly, he opened the door and floated inside, careful to not make any sounds. The wind that came in only ruffled the dark, heavy curtains a little bit, but there was the slightest hitch in Bruce’s heartbeat and breathing. Clark didn’t move. Neither did Bruce. He was still asleep.

Clark cautiously moved closer to the king-sized bed, bright red cape billowing behind him. He didn’t touch down on the floor, afraid that the old planks would creak. Instead he crossed his legs and floated in lotus position.

Bruce was curled up under the covers, lying on his side, his hands holding the sheets and his hair messy and still a little wet from his after-patrol-shower.

Clark’s bright red cape flowed softly in the wind. He should leave it home next time. Shit, was he really going to do this again? He didn’t even know _why_ he was doing this. If Bruce woke up, or found out some other way... and he would of course, being Bruce… He was risking their whole friendship by doing this. But after a couple of minutes of watching Bruce sleep, he started to calm down. For once, he let himself forget about the world around him, his hearing narrowed down to only Bruce’s bedroom. He listened to the steady rhythm of Bruce’s heartbeat and breathing. The man was always busy, always doing something. To watch him sleep was weird, but very calming. 

When he heard Alfred getting up in the east wing of the house and getting ready to prepare breakfast, he turned around and quietly left, closed the doors behind him.

 

\---

It had started a week ago. Bruce had gotten hurt in his leg on patrol, and with a lot of effort Clark had managed to calm him down so he could pick him up and carry him to his bedroom. On the way up, Bruce had finally allowed fatigue to kick in and had fallen asleep in his arms.  Clark had put him in bed; Alfred had already gone to his own quarters. Once he had Bruce safely under the covers, Clark didn’t want to leave. He sat down in the chair by the fireplace, and watched Bruce.

In the weeks to come, Clark had waited almost every night for Bruce to return from patrol and go to bed, flew down to Gotham, and watched Bruce sleep.

The first few times had been cautious. He hadn’t used his hypersensitive senses to determine if Bruce was asleep or not. He didn’t want to invade the man’s privacy by peeking or listening in too much. Which was crazy talk, cause he already _was_ invading Bruce’s privacy. Now, after work and his own patrol in Metropolis, he flies up to the stratosphere and waits there until he hears Bruce’s heartbeat and breathing even out. Then he flies down, and goes in.

Watching Bruce helped him relax more than the unneeded sleep he could get at his apartment in Metropolis ever would.

 

One night, Clark could see the ISS from where he was floating, Bruce came in early (2 am, but still, much earlier than usual). Clark was so happy he just let himself fall down to earth, the wind pulling at his cape and making even his eyes tear. When he went in, it was still very dark, the only light in which he could see Bruce coming from the moon. Somehow Bruce’s door was always open. It was a warm night, and Bruce was sleeping only half covered under thin white sheets. He was lying on his stomach, his face turned to the left and a faint smile ghosting around his lips. The cold blue moonlight touched the scars on his back, the shadows only slightly changing in the rhythm of his breathing.  

 

But another night, 15 minutes after Clark had gotten into the room, the nightmares began. Bruce screamed and the sheets and his hair were damp from sweat and Clark was afraid and didn’t know what to do and he couldn’t wake Bruce because how could he even begin to explain what he was doing in his house? So he flew out the window and straight up in the sky until he reached the stratosphere. He tried to tune out the sounds Bruce was making, but it didn’t work. He supersped down to Metropolis and into his apartment. There, he called Bruce on his cell phone until he picked up.

 

A few days later, Bruce was sleeping on his side, facing the window. It was just before dawn, and in the first hesitating light of that day, Bruce’s stoic face was calm on the pillow. He looked as Clark imagined Bruce would have looked had he never needed to become Batman; even Brucie never seemed so content. Clark ghosted closer to the bed and hovered above Bruce.

He reached for Bruce’s black hair, and whispered: “Oh, you beautiful man. I wish I could touch you.” But before he did so, he pulled his hand away again and left. The next day, at The Planet, he decided that had been the last time. He had gone too far, and wouldn’t go there again.

 

Only, that night, he found himself floating silently outside Bruce’s bedroom, his back lit by the moon. He had tried to sleep but he couldn’t. Now, he flew in through the ever opened doors of Bruce’s balcony. Bruce lay on his back, sheets pushed down to his navel and hands on his belly, his face calm. Bruce never lay on his back. He usually slept on his side, curled up in a ball and hugging the sheets, or on his stomach, legs straight and body calm. He never moved much in his sleep, and didn’t actually need a bed this big. Clark knew all that, and he had never seen Bruce sleep on his back.

He floated closer to the bed, until he was above Bruce, three feet between them. Bruce was almost as tall as him, his equal in everything. A sharp line of blue moonlight coming in through the curtains played with the shadows on Bruce’s face, his breathing calm as always, or—

Bruce opened his eyes. Night blue stared up at him, no trace of emotion.

The silence lasted 5 heartbeats. Then, Bruce reached up, a warm hand touching Clark’s cheek.

Clark swallowed, audibly.

“Just come down here and kiss me, Clark. And lock the doors.”

He did.


End file.
